


In Your Dreams

by Isis



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angry Kissing, Dreams, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Supernatural Elements, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:27:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isis/pseuds/Isis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan's been dreaming a lot about Adam lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/gifts).



> A Yuletide treat for you, Marks! I was inspired by your prompt of "Ronan's dream powers making his crush more and more embarrassing in reality." (Also angry makeouts.)
> 
> Thanks to darkrosaleen and ariadnes_string for beta.

"It's done," said Adam, as he slid out from under the BMW, covered in grease and dust, and into the empty spot next to it, in the parking lot at Monmouth Manufacturing. He'd pulled his own shitty car in a couple of slots away from Ronan's, presumably to give him room to work. "At least, I did what I could, and I think it'll do. Your dad might have been a crazy dream genius, but he had some weird ideas about cars."

Ronan shrugged. "And toasters. And people." He wondered what his mother's insides looked like. What his own looked like, a hybrid between a real human being and someone invented in a dream.

"Yeah, well, mine's worse with people." Adam disconnected the work light he'd hooked into the BMW's battery – at least there _was_ a battery, even if the drivetrain wasn't exactly standard issue. He closed the hood, then sat on the asphalt in front of his tool box and started putting things away. 

Not much you could say to that. Not when you'd hauled off and punched the fucker for beating his son; not when you'd helped get a court date and a restraining order, not when you'd testified against him. Ronan was pretty sure Adam could take his agreement as understood.

"Thanks, man. How much do I owe you?" 

Of course Adam's back stiffened. That's why Ronan had said it. "You don't need to give me money."

"You fixed my car. That's worth something."

"Didn't take long," said Adam. It looked to Ronan like he was rearranging the tools in the box. Pretending to be doing something useful, so he didn't have to look at Ronan's face, and maybe that was a good thing, because Ronan had a feeling his stupid crush was written in large letters across his forehead, and it was beginning to piss him off. 

"Besides," Adam added, "it was interesting to see what you had under there."

What was under there had looked okay to Ronan, but he didn't have the intimate knowledge of automobiles that Adam had developed. Cars were for driving, not for taking apart. Wheels, axles, drivetrain, all looked good to him. When a squeal had developed every time he turned the wheel hard right, he hadn't hesitated to call Adam.

In fact, when he'd asked Adam to take a look at the BMW, he had had the weird feeling that he'd asked him before. Maybe in a dream. He'd been dreaming a lot about Adam, lately.

"All right," said Ronan. "I'll just take it as a kind gesture from a friend." The irony came through – he'd meant it to – and Adam finally looked up at him, pulled himself to his feet. "Like you should take Gansey's invite to move in here with us. Monmouth's better than that craphole you live in."

"It's not a craphole. And anyway, that's not the same thing."

"Come on, Parrish."

"It's not," Adam insisted.

"Then pay him rent."

"It doesn't matter. I'm not going to be one of Gansey's things, in Gansey's place, at Gansey's whim."

They stared at each other for a moment. Right, thought Ronan. Like you don't jump when he says. Like you don't spend your free time searching for Glendower, because that's what Gansey wants. Like you didn't make yourself the sacrifice to bring the ley line to life for Gansey. 

In that moment he was profoundly and ridiculously envious of Gansey, for sparking that kind of loyalty. Even though he, himself, was just as devoted to Gansey as Adam was. Gansey was the kind of person that inspired loyalty effortlessly.

 _Gansey's lapdog_ , Kavinsky's ghost whispered into his ear.

Fuck this. His eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I'm one of Gansey's things?" 

"You." Adam shook his head, and a smile briefly crossed his lips. "As if."

"So how come you take my help but you won't take his?"

"Because you don't offer it. You just _do_ it." He turned away, back to the toolbox. He picked it up and put it in the trunk of his piece of shit car, closed the lid.

"You saying we should just kidnap you and move you in, then?" He let out a long, disgusted sigh. "Give your martyr syndrome a break, Parrish."

"I don't need you to rescue me."

"The fuck you don't. Or did you want him to pound you to a pulp?"

Adam whirled. His lips were tight and pale. "What I want," he said carefully, "is not to owe you anything. Or to owe Gansey, or anyone else," he added, but the damage had been done; Ronan had heard the slight edge under his words, and it only made him angrier.

He stepped closer to Adam, pinning him against the door of the BMW. "What's wrong, Parrish?" he asked, letting his voice go low and dangerous. A voice to make knees knock and shivers slide down spines. "Afraid I might try to collect on your debt?"

Adam lifted his chin. It did not tremble. He looked Ronan in the eye. "Afraid I might want you to." 

They stared at each other for a long moment. If they hadn't been in the parking lot of Monmouth Manufacturing, in the middle of the day – if they hadn't been out in the Henrietta sun, where anyone could see them – Ronan would have crushed Adam against the side of the BMW, would have thrust against him, kissed his mouth with his lips and fucked it with his tongue. Would have slid down the zipper of his filthy jeans and taken his cock into his mouth, licked and sucked until Adam cried out and came down his throat.

He'd dreamed of that. He'd dreamed a lot of scenarios, all of them different. In his dreams he'd seen Adam splayed out across the cheap bed in his crappy apartment, Adam sprawled across him in the backseat of the BMW, Adam on his knees in the depths of the forest. He'd dreamed of being entwined with Adam, leaning back against his chest, the tattoo on his shoulder sliding off onto Adam's skin, spreading across his body. Each time he woke gasping, covered in sweat and his own jizz, Chainsaw madly cawing in his ear.

He ground his legs more firmly against Adam's thighs, and leaned in close. "Of course, you could always collect on the debt I owe you."

Adam frowned. "What debt?"

"Whatever the shit you did with that psychic, that night." The night of Kavinsky's party. He didn't want to think about it – about Matthew, about the terror he'd felt, the high, the narrow sharp edge – but he wasn't the kind of person who'd forget it had happened. "And hell, you woke the ley line, right? You were the sacrifice." His mouth twisted into a mocking grin. "That martyr syndrome again."

"I'm not trying to be a martyr. I just –" His lips clamped down hard on whatever it was he was going to say. 

"You want to do everything on your own." Ronan felt a small, cruel satisfaction at the slight widening of Adam's eyes, the guilty duck of his slender shoulder. You know me, and I know you, he thought. No secrets here. "No such thing. You should know that by now. It's because we stand on the shoulders of giants, all that shit."

"Okay," said Adam. "Then you can get me a cold drink."

Ronan raised an eyebrow, but he turned and led the way into Monmouth and up the stairs, into his room. The window was open; Chainsaw was out hunting carrion, or whatever it was she ate when he didn't feed her pizza and bits of raw hamburger. He opened the door of the cube fridge and pulled out a can of Coke; his hand brushed by a beer, hesitated, then reached for a second Coke. "Cheers."

"Cheers," said Adam, and he tipped it to his lips. Ronan watched the pulse at his throat, the movement of his skin as he drank.

_You know me, and I know you._

"This is going to sound stupid as shit," said Ronan. The pulse gave a little throb in double-time. Adam set the can down carefully on an empty Doritos bag. 

"I know."

"You know what I'm going to say, or you know it's stupid?"

Adam took two steps and abruptly Ronan was crowded against the wall. He plucked the can out of Ronan's fingers and placed it delicately on the nearest surface to hand, which happened to be the desk chair. 

"I," said Adam again, " _know_ ," right into his face, right into his _mouth_ , and then his lips were on Ronan's and Ronan's head slammed back against the wall under the force of it. He tasted of Coca-Cola, and smelled of motor oil and the dank moss of Cabeswater. 

"Holy fuck," said Ronan, when he could do something with his mouth that wasn't kissing Adam.

"Shut up." Adam turned away and took a long pull from Ronan's Coke, then sat down hard on the bed, his face thunderous.

Ronan grinned. "Whatever you say."

Adam glared up at him. "You dream too loudly, did you know that? Every time you dream about me. I feel it on the ley line. Like a damn train going by outside my window. Wakes me up, and I need all the sleep I can get."

"Wait, you can – you can tell?" Bad enough that his goddamn stupid crush was written across his face, apparently he was telegraphing his goddamn stupid wet dreams. Suddenly he was no longer grinning.

"Can I tell. Hah." 

"Well, stay the fuck out of my dreams, then."

"It isn't like I have a fucking _choice_!"

"And you think I do?" Ronan snorted, and dropped onto the bed next to Adam. "Hard enough when I want to bring something out, and I'm focused on it. But sometimes I just dream. It just happens, okay?"

"No, it doesn't. You want something, and you're focused on it. So you dream about it. You dream," said Adam meaningfully, "about me."

Ronan spread his hands. "Okay, you got me. For some completely unknown reason, I want your skinny ass, so I dream about it."

"Fine," said Adam. He turned, then threw his leg across Ronan's, straddling him, and Ronan found himself with a serious lapful of Adam Parrish. "Maybe your brain would shut up if you got some."

"Maybe," said Ronan, and that was all he was able to get out before Adam was kissing him again, hot and frantic, all tongue and teeth and hunger. Adam's body ground down onto his, and that was all it took. Instant hard-on, just add Adam.

"The thing is," gasped Adam, and it was a source of satisfaction to Ronan that it _was_ a gasp, "I have to get up at the, the, way too early, so I can study."

"Yeah," Ronan agreed. His hands slid from Adam's hips around to the front of his jeans. Unsnap, unzip, what do we have here? He reached back around to grab a buttcheek and used it to maneuver Adam where he wanted him.

"Then school. Then work, and then, ah, fuck, _Ronan_."

Ronan did not answer, as his mouth was otherwise occupied. And Adam didn't say much after that, either, other than a few grunts and murmurs, which was all to the good as far as Ronan was concerned, because right now Adam was getting his dick sucked, and everything else could just go fuck off.

He was pleased to see that Adam was an enthusiastic participant. Adam's hands curled around the back of his head, pulling him in, splayed against his buzz-cut hair tight to his skull. Adam fucked his mouth like it was the only thing holding him anchored to the earth, and when he shuddered and came down Ronan's throat he collapsed hard, breathing in deep, broken gasps, like he'd been running a marathon and had thrown himself across the finish line.

"You were saying?" said Ronan, when Adam finally slid back down to face him again. 

"I have no idea." Adam stretched, rolling his shoulders up and down. He looked like he wanted to settle in for a nap.

"You were saying," prompted Ronan, "that I should get some." Adam only stared at him, a little hazily, so he added, "And that means, _I_ should get some." He took Adam's hand and placed it on his own crotch, just to be sure his message got across.

Adam's eyes abruptly focused on him, and yeah, message received. Together they got Ronan's jeans open and down to mid-thigh, and then Adam's hand, warm and strong, closed around Ronan's dick, and Ronan thought for a moment he was going to come right then.

But then Adam smiled. It was the triumphant smile he gave Ronan when Ronan had egged him into doing something unwise, and he had not only done it but upped the ante. This would not have been a bad thing, in itself – a pleasantly dangerous smile promised all sorts of pleasantly dangerous things – but at the same time, Adam also took his hands off Ronan's body, which was definitely a bad thing. It was only small consolation that he used them to take off his own shirt, because okay, nice torso, but Ronan wanted those hands on _him_.

After Adam had carefully laid his shirt off to the side, he reached for the hem of Ronan's t-shirt. Ronan tipped his head forward and raised his arms, and Adam pulled it up, off his chest, over his head – and then threw a quick twist into it so that Ronan's wrists were bound in the cloth, held up above his head.

"What the fuck, Parrish? Not that I'm complaining," he added, just in case.

"Good." Adam gave the shirt another vicious twist, and the edge of one of the leather bands Ronan wore bit into his wrist. _Not_ that he was complaining.

Adam leaned forward and pinned him with another frantic kiss, his hands holding Ronan's bound wrists tightly against the wall. The tip of Ronan's straining dick just barely touched Adam's stomach, and he pushed his hips upward, trying for more contact, more pressure, more _anything_.

"Come _on_ ," he said, when his mouth was free enough to form words.

"Be good," said Adam, and he dropped one of his hands back down between them to curl around Ronan's dick and hold it against his stomach, sliding and twisting, and if that was what he got for being good, Ronan was going to be a fucking _angel_ from now on, because it was worth it to have Adam's hands, rough and strong, touching him –

– Adam's body bearing down on him – 

– Adam's tongue in his mouth –

"Sweet Jesus Mary _fuck_ ," said Ronan, and came all over the both of them.

For a few minutes, they did nothing but breathe. Finally Ronan said, very quietly, "Do you think I could have my hands back?" He could easily have broken Adam's one-handed grip, but it felt right to ask.

"Sorry," said Adam, and let go, then awkwardly slid off to the side. Ronan untwisted the t-shirt from his wrists and used it to clean them up. It would be going into the laundry in any event, might as well make it worth it. 

"So is that going to hold you for a while?" said Adam. He reached for his shirt and pulled it on, fastidiously tucking it into his jeans as he did them up. "Can you manage to keep your dreams to yourself?"

"You know, I don't think I dreamed of that particular scenario," said Ronan. 

For the second time, Adam's mouth curved into that triumphant smile. "I did."

"Well, there you go. Now that I know what it's like, I don't think you're gonna get a good night's sleep for the foreseeable future." Hell, he wasn't sure he was going to let Adam out of his room. He was already getting hard again.

Maybe Adam read his mind, because he reached out and hooked a finger into the waistband of Ronan's jeans. "I don't know about you, but I prefer my orgasms while I'm awake."

Ronan shifted and rolled over him, and damn, it was just as nice being on top of Adam as the other way around. "That," he said, "can be arranged. And I am only being practical by pointing out that it would be a hell of a lot easier if you lived here."

"No way," said Adam, but his foot curved around Ronan's ankle, and his free hand slid down Ronan's back, and from the bulge that pressed into him Ronan was pretty sure he wasn't the only one in the room with a hard-on. "You are going to have perfectly boring dreams tonight. Dreams that do not involve me, and therefore do _not_ wake me up."

"Yeah, you think?"

"If I get a full night's sleep tonight," said Adam, his breath warm on Ronan's face, "there is a chance I might be persuaded to do this again."

"Whatever," said Ronan, yawning. He shifted to the side just a little and snuggled into Adam's body. Adam's chest wasn't the most comfortable pillow, but so what?

He fell asleep in moments. He didn't dream at all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dream a Little Dream of Me (the Mechanic's Version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230933) by [flyingcarpet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingcarpet/pseuds/flyingcarpet)




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